


Stones In The Silver

by Maffasaur



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi, Sons of Anarchy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5600086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maffasaur/pseuds/Maffasaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Michael Jones made friends with Geoff Ramsey over a mutual love of restoring motorcycles, he could have never predicted this is how it was going to turn out. He didn’t want to be in one of Austin's most notorious motorcycle gangs. All of it had been an accident, but Gavin? Gavin was no accident and neither was falling in love with him - it was exactly what Michael needed to escape this life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stones In The Silver

**Author's Note:**

> This is really just a test piece.   
> Thisis going to be a 100k worded, slow building fic.   
> This whole thing has been in the works for over a year now, so if you like it, give me feedback, otherwise this thing will probably be scrapped. I hope ya’ll love this as much as I do.

Michael spent a lot of his time trying to convince himself that he was a good person.

While he couldn’t tell people how he had let himself get sucked into the underworld of crime by Geoff, he could tell them it sure as fuck hadn’t been his intention.

It had all started innocently enough when he’d bought a piece of shit bike at age nineteen with the set goal of restoring it. In his mind, it was an easy job. He could see the bike becoming a masterpiece; a custom built bike that screamed money and arrogance, with a humming engine which was both gentle and powerful all at the same time. It would earn him respect, cause envy and most importantly make him look  _ cool as fuck _ .

Naturally, it hadn’t turned out like Michael had hoped it would. 

The pieces he needed to bring his bike to its full glory were expensive, rare, or both.

Michael’s income was miniscule, creating his first obstacle. His job of nightfill at his local supermarket only supplied him with barely enough money to pay bills and yet every other week, three dollars of his measly paycheck went into a large glass jar marked lovingly as  _ Bike Fund _ . 

It was a slow going process, but it worked.

After several months, there was finally enough money to start thinking about buying pieces for the bike. 

With enthusiasm, Michael began his project. Every single day he toiled away on his baby with every spare minute he could muster up. It was hard work with long, dragging hours of effort, but he only had to remind himself that once this was done he’d have one of the sweetest rides in Austin. That thought alone was the thing that made it all so worth it.

 

~

 

It was a usually hot Texan day when he revved his bike for the first time. 

It wasn’t quite at the finished point that Michael wanted, but it was getting there. A traditional Harley-Davidson, a soft matte black in colour. It was a beautiful bike and all it needed now was to have its engine brought to life.

As he pulled the accelerator, he braced himself excitedly for the loud roar of his masterpiece coming to life. His dreams were instantly dashed when instead of erupting into a beautiful growl, the engine gave nothing more than a rough choke then faltered back into silence. A slew of curses escaped Michael’s mouth and he kicked the front wheel angrily before pacing around the machine.

The first helpful thing he did was carefully check through the motor for any pieces that were loose and bouncing around, but his search came up empty. The joints, springs, and coils were well greased, so in his mind there shouldn’t have been anything preventing the machine from flaring up into happy purrs. 

So why wasn’t it happening? What had he done to piss the universe off this time?

Michael tried again with hopes the initial failure was a one-off but threw the wrench in his hand across his backyard when, once again, his bike refused to start with anything but desperate splutters.

"Check your oil filter," An older voice called to Michael. “It sounds like it might be blocked, buddy.”

Michael held up a hand to shield his face from the hot sun while he looked in the direction the voice had come from. His neighbor was stood at the fence watching Michael with an amused glint in his eye.

 

~

 

Geoff Ramsey had been neighbours with Michael ever since the boy had moved to Texas with his mother after his parents had split. 

It had been two days after the Jones family had  _ finally _ managed to unpack all of their belongings. The house was still a mess of newspaper wrapped trinkets and not-quite-sorted kitchen utensils. It didn’t quite feel like a home quite yet, but it was getting there when their doorbell had cheerfully announced the presence of guests. 

Brenda had opened the door hesitantly, with Michael peeking out curiously from the hallway, and was instantly taken aback at the appearance of the couple in front of her.

The woman had short blonde hair, a septum piercing and an impressive array of coloured tattoos covering her arms. She smiled with kind eyes and offered Michael’s mother a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

“They’re gluten free!” She chirped cheerily, “I hadn’t seen anybody come over to say hello yet, so I figured why not give you a warm welcome from the Ramsey family on the behalf of the neighbourhood! I’m Griffon, and this is Geoff.”

Beside her was stood a man, her husband probably, with just as many tattoos - if not more. Geoff had dark hair that held a  _ just woke up _ impression and had an unattended scruffy beard. His eyes were a piercing blue and as he smiled, the corners of his eyelids crinkled. It was slightly odd thing to notice, but still felt charming. Until now, that had been the only time he and Michael had come close to interacting. 

 

~

 

Staring down at his bike and without words, Michael did as the older man had recommended. Surely enough, the filter was completely blocked up with old oil that had long ago coagulated and solidified. Groaning, he carefully removed the part and placed it on the concrete beside him so he could coat it thoroughly with chemicals to break down the mess. It took three heavy coats of degreaser to dislodge the gunk but eventually, Michael watched the last of the blockage slowly dissolve and wash down his driveway.

Once that passageway was cleared and the piece was replaced, Michael gave his bike another hesitant start. This time within a minute the rattle had stopped and while the sound still wasn’t  _ quite _ right, Michael found himself cheering and turning to grin widely at Geoff.

"Got any other advice, old man?" He asked, smiling cheekily. Geoff only gave a nonchalant shrug and smiled back.

It was the birth of a beautiful friendship and, as time passed, the two shared more and more knowledge with each other about motorcycles. Michael knew next to nothing about bikes or what he was doing, but it was his dedicated spirit that Geoff found inspiring. 

Motorbikes were an art form that was slowly dying out and the older man would do his best to keep it alive.

Geoff watched the painfully slow rebuild of the younger man's bike and, feeling bad, offered Michael some money if he did the occasional odd job for him. It started off with easy things like keeping their garden in check and cleaning the pool. 

But eventually the little odd jobs graduated into “take this package down the road and for fuck sake,  _ be careful _ with it” jobs. The income from simply walking those small brown boxes down the street were much higher than Michael expected, but he knew better than to ask.

Whatever was in the boxes was valuable - and possibly illegal - and it brought guilt bearing down on Michael’s shoulders. While he wasn’t the best behaved kid, he wasn’t a criminal either.

But it was good money, and the brown haired lad was just happy to see his baby finally starting to look like what he had envisioned.

 

~

 

A few months later, they were both set up in Geoff’s shed and had a good friendship, despite the twelve year gap between them.

 

Michael’s bike was well onto the way of being completed with only a few last touches that needed to be done. That’s when Geoff had casually asked the younger man if he wanted to join the new motorcycle club he was starting.

“You mean like a gang?” Michael asked warily, wiping the oil from his fingers into a dirty rag.

Geoff chuckled, “Nothing quite that extreme. It would just be a couple people, sitting around, having a drink and talking about bikes.”

Rubbing the back of his hand over his forehead, Michael wiped away the sweat that had built up there. “I don’t know, Geoff. Let me think about it, okay?” He replied carefully. While Michael seemed hesitant, was no hint of a definite no in his eyes. 

If he was honest, the idea was tempting. Michael wanted to widen his knowledge on bikes and the easiest way to do that was through a club. He knew that but he couldn’t help but be nervous.

Stereotypes were often not true, Michael knew that, but all the young lad could see coming from a club was a whole lot of bullshit. A whole lot of  _ illegal _ bullshit. Never before had he heard of a club that didn’t go rogue and away from the nice, clean,  _ legal  _ path. 

Michael just had to keep reminding himself that Geoff wasn't that sort of person. Right? 

Michael thrust the thought from his mind before it could sour his mind further. 

Geoff gave a knowing smile and he knew that, from that moment on, he had Michael under his paws like a cat playing with a mouse.

 

Two years passed and it was still just a group of motorcycle enthusiasts. 

The group had expanded - sitting at five men and a woman named Lindsay - and it had forced them to move from Geoff’s backyard into a rented garage space where they could fit all of their bikes and tools. But it was still what Michael had signed up for and his anxiety was slowly ceasing to exist.

 

~

 

The club changed it’s humble and innocent reputation into something much more menacing slowly, slow enough for Michael and his friends not to actively notice.

 

It started with the drugs.

It was already well established knowledge between the members of their small club that Geoff was a dealer, so when Lindsay was sent out to deliver packages instead of Michael, it wasn’t like it was a new revelation. Just because it wasn’t new didn’t mean that it didn’t make Michael nervous.

When he had done the exact same thing two years ago, it was because he had needed money. God knew it was easier than busting his ass at some shitty minimum wage job for twelve hours a day. When came darkness, light was there to cast the shadow.

This wasn’t necessarily the issue anymore; the club shared a small portion of their own funds from their day to day jobs with each other and helped out when somebody needed new parts for their bikes or anything similar to the likes. 

The entire drug mail service was absolutely unneeded now.

It got to a point where Michael got so concerned about Lindsay that he brought forth his feelings to Geoff. However, his long time friend brushed the concerns off like they were cobwebs and told Michael that everything was all fine, and not to worry.

Time passed, and as if Michael hadn’t said anything, the packages got bigger and the cheques skyrocketed higher.

 

The increase in both of these things started to cause Michael’s anxiety to spark all over again.

Bringing the issue up again with Geoff was a consideration, as was simply telling his boss that he was thinking about fucking off for good if they were going to keep going down this path, but his nervousness prevented him from doing so. This club was his only income and if he were to break the connection, he’d go broke. It was the only real reason he stayed on.

 

But then came the moment of no return. 

It was a Tuesday, late in the afternoon with a soft breeze blowing through the garage space. Geoff was sat outside with both Ray and Michael beside Ray’s brand new deep pink bike when it happened. 

Ryan walked into the shed with a grin on his face and a strange stain on the front of his jacket.

In his hands was a small pale wooden box and immediately Geoff was out of the conversation between himself and the boys. With an air of keen satisfaction, Geoff placed the wrench in his hand beside him on the concrete while Michael and Ray watched on in silent curiosity.

“It’s done,” Ryan said and offered the box to Geoff. 

The smile on Geoff’s face grew larger as he took the box from Ryan’s hands and opened it. 

The inside of the pine box was lined with soft blue velvet and sitting in the middle was a blood covered handgun. Geoff lifted the gun from the box very carefully before sliding the magazine out with a click. There was an instantaneous fire that sparked in the older man’s eyes that immediately started to fill Michael with cold dread.

“It’s time to play, lads.”

 

~

 

Michael couldn’t help but scoff to himself every time he thought about it now. 

It had been well over five years ago and an entire lifetime of events had happened in the time that had passed. There were still days where he woke up in a sweat, chest filled with heavy guilt, wishing that he had abandoned the club while it had still been possible.

The whole situation had quickly become a  _ clusterfuck _ of conflicted interests. 

Word spread in the underground about the new upcoming gang in Austin and new recruits came in large numbers. Austin Menace wasn’t a giant group, but they were quickly climbing the ladder to the top. Tiny gangs that held less than ten members were one by one being wiped out - everybody except the Fivers. The Fivers were a tiny MC and the only reason they were still standing is because Geoff has a long running friendship with the president

People who only wanted to join the club for the drugs and money were easy to identify - and they didn’t stick around for long. 

Geoff had set up a ruthless amount of test missions for new recruits to go through, all of which were designed to test their strength, and more importantly their loyalty. 

More often than not, when they realised how much shit they had to go through, they’d disappear as quickly as they appeared. 

Despite this, they still came and went like steady clockwork.

Not everybody who had actually made it into the ranks wanted to be there anymore. Whether they’d been there for months or even years, they knew there was no hope for them in society.

Criminal records a mile long and nobody willing to hire them for their gang affiliated pasts; they had no other choice but to remain forever loyal to Austin Menace.

In recent months they’d gained two new prospects - Jeremy, a man full of laughter and keen enthusiasm along with his best friend Matt. The latter, while very similar to Jeremy, was less outgoing and generally more muted. Quiet and careful, Michael knew that Matt would easily fit in place amongst the rest of the crew.

Both men were clearly excited to be make it through the extensive tests Geoff had presented them with. For once in a long time, their new members were more interested in the bikes and learning new things than they were in the money. 

It filled Michael with a mixture of relief that the original purpose of the club wasn’t lost and dread knowing how quickly that fact would change.

The once beautiful machines were now just a cover up to what was going on behind closed doors; the movement of drugs, guns, whores and  _ money _ .

 

It was corruption at its damn finest.

 


End file.
